Читать книгу The Millionaire's Club: Connor, Tom & Gavin - Michelle Celmer - Страница 11

Salvation manifested itself in many forms.

This particular brand had showed up in tight jeans, a flannel shirt and cowboy boots.

And he was looking at her as though her hair had caught fire.

“You’re Nita Windcroft?”

“That’s what it says on my birth certificate.”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. Connor may have been Jake’s identical twin, but they were complete opposites. Sure, they looked alike—the same height, the same dark brown hair, though Connor’s was cut military short. They both had eyes the color of the Texas sky at dusk on a cloudless day—deep, relentless blue. But Connor seemed darker somehow, more intense.

The lines bracketing his eyes were carved deeper in his skin, the worry lines in his forehead more pronounced. This man had obviously done his fair share of frowning. In their depths his eyes held the life experience of a man twice his age.

The things that man must have seen to have eyes like that.

“You’re really Nita?” he asked, looking down one side of the porch, then the other, as if he expected the real Nita suddenly to appear.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?”

His eyes roamed over her, slowly. Deliberately. Something about the way he looked at her, the way he studied her features, made her feel self-conscious and exposed.

“Not exactly.”

More like, hell no, considering the look on his face.

“I thought you would be…older,” he said.

“If you got your information from the old biddies in town, you probably thought I was some nasty hag.”

She could tell by the look of guilt in his eyes, that’s exactly what he’d thought, but he was apparently too polite to tell her so.

“If you’d like, I could show you my driver’s license.”

He finally cracked a smile—even though it was just a little one—and the change in his face, the softening of his features knocked her for a loop. “No, ma’am, that won’t be necessary.”

“You can call me Nita,” she said, extending a hand for him to shake.

He gripped it firmly. Not the sissy shake some men used on a woman, as if the slightest pressure would snap her like a dry twig. On the other side of that coin were the men who felt they had something to prove, the ones who turned the shake into some kind of contest of brute strength. Connor’s handshake was just right.

Having him stay here, getting in her way, might not be so bad after all.

“I guess we should get this show on the road,” Nita said. “I had Jane, our housekeeper, make up the bedroom in the guesthouse so you’ll have some privacy.”

He paused. “I’d prefer to stay in the main house if that’s not a problem.”

The only empty bedroom in the main house was right next to hers. The thought of this man sleeping within shouting distance gave her an unexpected little shiver of excitement. She wondered what he looked like when he slept. Did he lie on his stomach, his back? Did he wear pajamas or did he sleep in his birthday suit?

Maybe one day she’d be lucky enough to find out.

Or maybe she’d be better off not letting her imagination run off with her again. Her daddy always accused her of being too curious, too brazen, for her own good.

“You can stay wherever you’d like,” she told Connor. “We’ve got plenty of room. I’m just grateful you’re here to keep an eye on things. The staff have been instructed to assist you in any way possible.”

“I appreciate that,” he said—so somber, so serious and businesslike. He really was different from his brother.

“Well, okay, let’s get you settled in.” She reached for the door handle, but in a flash he’d grabbed it and opened the door for her.

Well, damn. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone but her daddy had opened a door for her. To the farm hands, she was just one of the men, and was treated accordingly. That was the way she liked it. She had no delusions about the kind of woman she’d become. She wasn’t pretty or worldly like her sister Rose, and she certainly wasn’t what you would call feminine. She could drink any of the farm hands under the bar and was known to cuss a blue streak when the circumstances demanded it. She couldn’t cook, and had no inclination to learn, and would rather muck a stall than clean a toilet. Not a dream wife by any stretch of the imagination.

Not any kind of wife at all.

Not that she didn’t appreciate a good-looking man in a pair of tight jeans, she thought, taking a not-so-subtle peek at Connor’s rear end as she eased past him into the house.

As Connor stepped in behind her, he gazed around the interior, at the cream-colored walls and French doors that opened to the office, up the wide staircase that led to the bedrooms. “Not your typical farmhouse.”

“Nope. My momma was a city girl and my daddy knew she wasn’t happy living in the old farmhouse, so he built her this one. I was just a baby when we moved in. Two years later cancer took her.”

Most people would mumble some sort of apology, or words of regret. Connor only nodded.

Not the talkative type, was he?

“Kitchen’s that way,” she said, pointing to the right. “Meals are at 6:00 a.m., noon and 6:00 p.m. sharp. Jane’s room is behind the kitchen. Through those doors over there is the office. The family room and Daddy’s suite are at the back of the house.”

“How is your father?” Connor asked.

“His surgery went well. He’ll be home in a day or two, but he’s going to be off his feet for at least a couple of weeks. It could have been a lot worse. If he hadn’t had Jimmy, our stable manager, with him, who knows how long he would have laid there.” She’d seen men hurt before, but when they cut away her daddy’s bloody pant leg and she saw the bone jutting through the skin, she’d felt dizzy and sick to her stomach.

She’d never seen him looking so pale and weak and broken down. It disturbed her more than she would ever let on. He was her protector. Her hero. Larger than life and invincible. Even though she was a grown woman now, she wasn’t ready to let go of that fantasy. Instead it had been snatched away. Stolen from her by the Devlins.

She turned to Connor. “We need to find out who did this.”

There was fire in Nita’s eyes, a volatile, vivid anger—one Connor recognized all too well—and he suddenly felt sorry for any man who dared cross her. But through the anger, he could see a flicker of something else, something that might have been fear or hurt. It was gone so quickly, he couldn’t pin down the exact emotion.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he assured her. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She gave him a brusque nod. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He hooked his bag over his shoulder and followed her up the stairs. Her boots echoed against the bare wood steps and her backside swayed temptingly in front of him. She may not have the overly accentuated curves and feminine sweetness some men liked, but something about her stirred a yearning in Connor, a deep longing he hadn’t felt for a very long time. A recklessness that tempted him to throw common sense aside and act on his feelings.

As he always did in these cases, he shoved those feelings deep down and kept them under lock and key. He’d learned long ago not to let his emotions get away from him. When he did, bad things happened. People got hurt.

And pretty as she was, she could still be a murderer.

Nita led him down the hall to his room. “Jane will change your linens once a week and you’ll find fresh towels in the bathroom closet,” she said from the bedroom doorway. “There’s only one bathroom upstairs so I hope you don’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t mind.” Connor set his bag on the hand-stitched quilt draped over the full-size bed. The room was decorated in creams and beiges with dark blue and green accents and the pine furniture looked to be antique. It was a small room, but he didn’t need much space.

“If you leave your dirty clothes in the bathroom hamper Jane will wash them for you.”

“I can do my own laundry.”

Nita laughed—a husky, rich laugh. “You’ll have to get through Jane first, and I’ll warn you, she’s temperamental as a rattlesnake when it comes to other people using her fancy new washer and dryer. Ever since I plugged up the drain and flooded the laundry room trying to do a load.”

“Long as she doesn’t mind,” Connor said.

“Believe me, she doesn’t. She takes a lot of pride in keeping the household running smoothly. Normally she would be here to greet you and show you around, but she’s at the hospital with Daddy.”

“She’s been with you a long time?”

“Ever since Momma got sick. Jane practically raised me and my sister.”

Which meant she would be unlikely as a suspect, but he had to consider every angle. Every possibility.

She nodded toward his bag. “Would you like some time to unpack and settle in?”

“No, ma’am, I can do that later. I’d like to get started. I’ll need a tour of the house and the property.”

“We’ll have to be careful. The boys haven’t gotten all the holes filled yet, and I don’t want any more horses or people hurt. I’m assuming you can ride.”

He hadn’t ridden since he was a kid, but he was sure once he was in the saddle it would come back to him. “I’ll manage.”

“Well, then, why don’t we head out to the stable?”

They started down the stairs, side by side, and Nita’s scent drifted his way. She smelled like fresh air and dust and faintly of sweat. And something else, something sweet, and a little flowery. Since he couldn’t imagine her wearing perfume, he decided it was probably her soap or shampoo. And it was distracting him.

Now he understood what his brother, Logan and Gavin had been alluding to when they asked Connor if he would mind working with a woman like Nita. They weren’t worried that he wouldn’t like her. They thought he might like her too much. But he wouldn’t let this attraction he was feeling cloud his judgment.

“Tell me about this feud,” he said to get his mind back on track. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors. What’s it really all about?”

“It’s been going on for over a hundred years. My great-great-grandfather, Richard Windcroft, lost half his land to Nicholas Devlin in a poker game. The Windcrofts swore that he cheated, but the courts ruled in Devlin’s favor. A few weeks later Nicholas was shot dead and my grandfather was blamed, but there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him. We’ve been at odds ever since.”

“Do you think Richard killed him?”

“He swore he didn’t, and Windcrofts are honest men.”

“So, if the Devlins are behind the threats, why do they want you off the land?”

“They’ve always wanted our land.”

“But why now?”

Nita shrugged. “I don’t know. Do they even need a reason?”

“Do you think there could be a connection to Jonathan Devlin’s death?”

She stopped and spun to face him, her eyes dark with anger. “Don’t think I don’t know what people are saying. I may have hated Jonathan Devlin, but I didn’t have anything to do with his death. Not me or anyone else here. You got that?”

Whoa. She didn’t pull any punches. He hadn’t known too many women who were so in-your-face direct.

“I don’t listen to gossip,” he told her. “Only facts. And right now, the facts don’t point to the Devlins.”

“If it’s not the Devlins, then who would do this. And why?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

“It’s the damndest thing,” Jimmy Bradley said. He, Nita and Connor stood in the west corral studying one of the holes the farm hands hadn’t yet filled. After touring the property, Connor understood how someone could dig holes in the more remote areas undetected. Under the cover of darkness, unless someone was out guarding the perimeter, it would be nearly impossible to see them. But whoever had done this one had dug not three hundred yards from the bunkhouse where the farm hands slept. The question was, why?

The holes were definitely made with a shovel, and the guilty party had left footprints in the fresh dirt. Connor crouched down and inspected the tracks. They were cowboy boots, and large, so he was guessing it was a man. Which could have been half the population of Texas for all he knew. Without a boot to compare it to, the prints wouldn’t do him much good. He’d call Gavin and have a deputy come out and photograph them just in case.

One thing the prints did tell, him however, was that Nita hadn’t done this—not that he’d thought she had.

“Could it be someone working on the farm?” Connor asked Jimmy.

“No, sir,” Jimmy said with a firm shake of his head. “A few of the hands might be a little wild, but they’re good, honest men and loyal to the Windcrofts. They would never do this.”

Connor stood and brushed the dirt from his hands. “What about a past, disgruntled employee?”

“Well, there was one man we let go early last year,” Jimmy said. “And it wasn’t on the best of terms.”

Nita shot him a deadly look. “He wouldn’t do this.”

“I need to know who he is and what happened,” Connor told her. “I need to investigate every possible angle.”

Her chin rose a notch. “His name is Sam Wilkins. The gist of it is, my daddy caught me and him in a…compromising position in the stable. Daddy asked Sam if he planned to marry me. When Sam said no, Daddy ran him off the farm with a shotgun.”

Connor fought the grin that mental picture stirred up. “So, this man, he took advantage of you?”

The look she gave him was one of pure disdain, and her chin rose even higher. “Excuse me, but do I look like the kind of woman a man could take advantage of?”

At that very second, no. In fact, he was pretty sure she could hold her own with a grizzly bear. An emotion that felt like envy burned through him when he thought of the lucky individual who’d had his hands on that lean, lithe body of hers. He wondered if she’d be the shy, demure type in bed, or rowdy and assertive.

Something told him this woman didn’t have a demure bone in her body. She would be full of passion and fire.

All the more reason to keep his thoughts on the assignment and off Nita. He wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone—especially someone like her. The more attracted he was to a woman, the more desirable he found her, the more likely he was to lose control. And when he lost control, bad things happened. Which was the number one reason he hadn’t been in a gratifying relationship with a woman in longer than he could remember.

“Besides,” Nita said, drawing him back into the here and now, “last I heard he was foreman at his cousin’s farm in Kentucky, so it couldn’t have been him.”

Connor was sure there was more to the story, but he had the suspicion he’d get his head bitten off if he asked. And she was right, it probably wasn’t that employee. “Is there anyone besides the Devlins who has some kind of grudge against you?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question a million times and I just can’t think of anyone.”

“Maybe your father would know of someone?”

“I was planning to go visit him after we’re finished. I can ask him then.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to come with you.”

“Who’s going to watch the farm?” she demanded.

He hadn’t planned to come right out and tell her that he was assigned to be her bodyguard, and he had the feeling that when she figured it out for herself all hell would break loose. Either way, he was going to escort her to the hospital. If someone meant her harm he was going to be there to protect her.

“I’m sure Jimmy and the other men can keep an eye on things until I get back.”

“We can do that,” Jimmy said. The old man gave Connor a look, as if he had a pretty good idea that Connor wasn’t there to watch just the farm.

“Besides,” Connor said. “I doubt someone would be foolish enough to try something in broad daylight. Unless you think your father’s not up to the company yet.”

“If I know my daddy, he’s already pitching a fit to get home. He wants to get to the bottom of this just as badly as I do. I’m sure he won’t mind you coming.”

“The sooner he gets back, the better,” Jimmy said gruffly. “The boys went into town for supplies this morning and already there’s been talk.”

“What kind of talk?” Connor asked.

“That with Will gone, and all the disturbances out here, things are bound to fall apart.”

Nita’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t those busybodies in town have anything better to talk about?”

“Why would they think that?” Connor asked.

“After word got around about the poisoned feed we lost customers,” Jimmy said. “People pay top dollar to have their horses trained by Nita. If we can’t guarantee a horse’s safety, people stop callin’.”

“All the more reason to catch the son of a bitch,” Nita said, her eyes two violet embers.

Connor was convinced right then and there that Nita would never purposely cause trouble on the farm, not if it affected her livelihood.

“Seen enough?” she asked him.

He nodded and followed her out of the corral to where they’d left their horses. As they mounted, Nita noticed that he winced a little as he settled into the saddle. She often gave lessons to new riders and recognized the signs of a sore rear end. If he was achy from the short amount of time they’d been out, he’d be hurting like the devil by nightfall.

“We’ll go this way,” Nita said, leading him up the property line toward the main stable.

“How bad is it?” Connor asked.

“How bad is what?”

“Your financial situation.”

She didn’t want to discuss the farm finances with a stranger, whether he’d agreed to help her or not. It was no one else’s business. And every time she let herself think about it, a new notch of fear worked itself into her side.

“We’re holding our own,” she told him. What she didn’t say is that if business didn’t pick up soon, if they continued to lose customers, it wouldn’t be long before they went bankrupt. Then the Devlins would get what they’d been after all these years.

With her daddy out of commission, the burden of making things right landed squarely on her shoulders. But she could handle it. And when she found out who was trying to ruin them, that person was going to wish they were never born.